


Reflections still look the same to me, as before I went under.

by KeepGoing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Stiles, Character Death, Derek Feels Guilty, Derek Leaves Beacon Hills, Human!Derek, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Nemeton, Pack Feels, Sassy Stiles, Werewolf Sex, beta!derek, bottom!Derek, love is all you need, major character death but its a happy ending, rising from the dead but dont worry no zombies, this is what happens when you raise people from the dead, unrequited feelings in derek's head, werwolf biting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-10 20:59:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2039937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When tragedy strikes, Derek's gives up everything to fix it. But not everyone is as happy as he is with the end result. So he runs, never looking back. But Derek must learn, he never has been able to run from his past. </p><p>
  <i>"You really should lock your door there, Derek. Anyone could just walk right in." Stiles tells him smiling. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

It happened on a Tuesday. 

It was like any other day, as cliche as that sounds. It had rained in the morning; a light shower that Derek loves waking up to. Just a mist over the grass, causing small rainbows as the sun comes up bright and ready for the day over the hills of the town. He sipped his morning coffee, and read the latest tragedies on the front page, never knowing that soon he would be a part of one of those tragedies. 

It was a while after Kate was eventually caught and taken to the place Chris Argent had for her. Where they both were now, Derek doesn't know. Derek never did find out what Kate took from him. But as he owned up to his power dwindling and became Scott's beta, his power slowly returned. He had forgiven himself, his past, and in his own way, even Kate. She now would know what it was like never be in control again. She was too stubborn to ever listen to anyone who would offer help. She would be out of control of her shift forever imprisoned inside herself. 

So things in Beacon Hills had almost become, calm. Liam was doing well with Scott as his Alpha. The Lacrosse team had won state. And Scott, Stiles, and Lydia were about to become Seniors. 

They had meetings, as Scott called them, but they were really just a reason to have everyone over the loft for take out and to watch the "America's Got Talent."

Derek's life had become normal. He was content. 

But then it happened. 

On a Tuesday Morning. 

That light rain he had grown to love so much in the early morning was now the reason for the raw pain; like an infected open wound. 

He remembers the call. Every detail. How many rings before he picked up. Three. How many seconds before he heard the soft sob escape the Sheriff's throat on the other end of the line. Twenty seven. And the words; playing over and over in his head like a scratched record on a broken player. 

"Derek...you need to...you need to come down to the hospital. It's...Stiles. The road...the road was wet. I told him to get new tires...he told me...I...he's gone, Derek. Stiles is gone."

Scott met him outside before Derek even had a chance to jump out of the truck. Derek was running and Scott had to grab his arms; hold him back. He knows what Derek would have done. But Scott assured him, it was too late. 

Too late to help him. To change him. 

To even say goodbye.

"It was fast." Scott assures him. Derek can tell he had been crying. But right now, he was being strong. For Derek. 

"Tell me what happened." Derek looks over his shoulder into Lydia's red and swollen eyes a few feet away. Her skirt blows in the mid morning air and her arms are folded over his chest. She's guarding the carousel door to the hospital as if she knows he needs to be calm before he enters. 

"According to what the police say, Stiles was speeding down Hilltop and it had rained. He lost control." Scott speaks softly, never taking his hands off Derek's arms. Derek folds into Scott's touch.

"I've told him a million times..." Derek swallows. "That road is too dangerous."

Scott nods. "He was running late. It's a short cut to school."

Derek closes his eyes. He feels his knees begin to shake. He's helpless. He cant do a damn thing to help. This was natural. Not supernatural. He has no control over these types of things. 

"I..." Now it Scott's turn to swallow and shake. "I heard Lydia scream."

Derek feels his stomach lurch. He closes his eyes and brings Scott into his arms. It's the first time he's hugged someone in a long time that wasn't his family. But he knows now that Scott is his family.

They stay like that for a while, Scott softly whimpering like a puppy into his arms and Derek has to remember two things. One, how young Scott really is and two how this is a second big loss for him in a year. First Allison and now...

When Derek feels another set of arms around Scott's waist, he opens one arm to tuck Lydia inside their huddle. Lydia wails, barely able to keep herself from crumbling onto the ground. Derek holds the two teenagers up as he again remains the strong one. 

But Derek's entire world has just shattered. Derek, Scott and Lydia are all just scattered pieces on a chess board now.

They have no place. No purpose. There was no more game to win or lose. 

Not without Stiles. 

It happened on a Tuesday. 

 

  


**~**

  


The room was silent. 

There was no movement upstairs, and no movement in the living room where they all sat. 

No one had said a word in what seemed like hours.

Not one word was said at the cemetery either. 

The room was filled with black. Not just in clothing but in feeling as well. The despair radiating out of everyone was almost too much for Derek to endure. He glances at Scott who mirrors his own expression. 

And red. Lots of red swollen eyes. Eyes that had been wet for days and will continue to be. The silence is almost deafening. 

It's like no one can even speak; not just that they don’t know what to say. 

There are just no words. 

The tiny space is filled with people who love Stiles. Who, even though it may have never been said, honestly love him. How could you not?

Even Isaac and Jackson had flown in from wherever they had finally landed themselves permanently. Derek eyed Jackson and Lydia’s intertwined fingers and he felt a sudden surge of jealousy. 

“Should someone check on him?” Scott finally breaks the blackness.

“I will.” Melissa whispers, heading up the stairs to the Sheriff’s bedroom. Even though Derek would take bets he’s sitting on Stiles bed. Just like Derek had done in the middle of the night last night. 

And then the silence endures once more.

“What now?” Isaac asks ever so gently. Derek winces. Isaac. The boy who fled from this town due to all the loss. Back again for more.

“Its so quiet.” Lydia says and Derek watches as Jackson’s hand squeezes her. Another wave of jealousy washes over him. 

“It's going to be from now on.” Scott whispers.

More tears are shed around the room and when Melissa finally emerges from upstairs telling everyone she thought it was best if everyone went home now, the only thing left in the living room was the silent sadness that the house would forever hold now.

  


**~**

  


When Derek drove past the house and saw the ‘for sale’ sign out front, he did an immediate illegal u-turn in the middle of the residential road. 

John answers the door in his robe, a weeks worth of stubble on his face, and a bottle of beer lodged in his hand. He scowls at Derek. 

“Another intervention? I’m not in the mood.” He grumbles, leaving the door ajar as he shuffles back into the house. It's an absolute mess. 

“John…” Derek begins. 

“Just don’t. Scott was already here. I’ve made up my mind. I’m not staying in this house. I lost my wife, my son. I have nothing left here. I’m putting in my retirement early and getting far away from here.”

“You have us.” Derek reminds him.

John turns, eyes blazing with anger. “Yeah? When I look at you or Scott or Lydia, all I see is what this fucking town took from me.”

Derek swallows. “What happened to Stiles was an accident.”

“Yeah. It was. But how long would it have been before something else took him? Huh? Another werewolf pack? A Kanima!” John’s beer bottle shatters into a million pieces against the wall. Derek doesn’t even flinch. “I’m done with this town.”

John catches his breathe against the mantle as Derek feels the room begin to spin. How does he help this man? 

“I miss him too. Every day. It's like the world is empty now.” Derek whispers. John turns to look at him with gentle eyes.

“He loved you. He never told you. But he did.”

“What?” Derek’s eyes widen. 

“I’m surprised you never knew. I thought it would always be Lydia for him. And even when he was with Malia for that short time, but in the end, it was you. It had always been you.” John sits down on the couch and buries his face in his hands. “I’m sorry. I had no right say anything.”

“No.” Derek shakes his head. “No, it's okay. I just..” He never says another word; he just leaves John sitting on the couch. Derek sits in his car for a long time, staring up at the 2nd floor window he had climbed through so many times. 

He should have told him. How could he possibly be gone? The world feels like the oxygen’s been sucked out and there is just grayness now. 

Derek slams his gear down and drives as fast as he can.

  


**~**

  


"I'm not quite sure I understand what you are asking me." Deaton's voice is gentle, like always, but it's infuriating Derek. 

"Yes. You do."

Deaton sighs, setting down the stack of paper work he has in his hand. "Perhaps I do, but it doesn't mean I know what to do."

"But it is possible?" Derek looks him straight in his eyes. 

Deaton folds his arms across his chest. "Derek, even if it was, are you sure it's really what you want?" He pauses. "Have you spoken to Scott?"

"Scott has nothing to do with this."

"He's the Alpha." Deaton reminds him. "And in all reality, he's your Alpha now."

"This isn't a werewolf matter." Derek growls.

"It has to do with Stiles. It matters to Scott." Deaton walks toward him. "And it is a werewolf matter if you're talking about..."

"Someone has to do something." Derek's hand comes down hard on the metal operating table. His voice and violence shakes the whole room. 

"Sometimes things just happen. It's out of our control. Stiles was an exceptional young man, but he's gone. And it's sad and tragic, and we are all mourning, but that does not give you or anyone else the right to mess with forces like this." Deaton lays a hand on Derek's shoulder but he quickly brushes it off. Derek narrows his eyes.

"Stiles was everything. He was the glue that kept this pack together. Without him we're nothing."

Deaton sighs. "Or is it that you yourself are the one who is nothing without him?"

  


**~**

  


It had been a very long time since Derek had been there. He was just a child then, listening to the stories his parents told of power and magic. Of sparks and emissaries. He never knew much else about it until the Darach came into their lives. Until Stiles drew the power from it and the nogistune consumed him. 

But now here he is, in front of this thing for the first time in a long time, doing the exact same thing. He isn't even sure this will work. But if the Darach could harness its energy to save itself and forge power from it, then Derek could do it too. 

Deaton wasn't any help, but Derek did his own research. Stiles did teach him a lot about the internet. And to be honest he isn't sure what was true fact and what was just hoax supernatural fandom bullshit on the websites, but it didn't matter. He had to try. 

For the Sheriff. For Scott.

And yes, even him. For what he and Stiles could have been. 

Derek removes the triskelion from his jacket pocket, placing it gently onto the trunk of the Nemeton. He swallows as he kneels in front of it. He needed something of Stiles; not necessarily anything with his blood or DNA on it, but something that was close to him. Important. 

The Sheriff was passed out on the couch when Derek shimmed open Stiles bedroom window. He hadn't even known he was there. 

Derek lays the red hoodie onto the bark and closes his eyes. He rests his hands over the triskelion and uses the same power when he takes someones pain to force his power and strength into the Nemeton. He isn't taking anything from it for himself. He's giving it everything he has. He can feel the heat radiating from the wood and when he opens his eyes there is a bright gleaming green light surrounding it and himself. The ground beneath him shakes. The trees are swaying as if a storm is about to hit. He can smell the elements in the air all coming together. 

_"Alpha, Beta, Omega."_ He whispers. It's all he knows. It normally was what he chanted as a teenager to ground him. But now he's just giving the nemeton every ounce of what he was born with. 

"Alpha, Beta, Omega. Alpha, Beta, Omega. Alpha, Beta, Omega!" He finally screams as a bolt of lighting crackles down from the sky and streaming directly through his chest and into his body. 

Everything after that is just darkness.

  


**~**

  


When Derek's eyes open it's light out. But he's no where near the nemeton. He sits up quickly, checking his chest for any signs of permanent damage. Nothing. No singe marks. No torn clothing. Nothing. He looks around, the woods thick around him. He's definitely still in Beacon Hills; he'd know these woods anywhere. And he may not have any physical marks but his body ached like he had just gone 9 rounds with the worst of the worst supernatural entities. Maybe he had. 

His jeans are dirty as if he rolled around in the dirt a bit, but the air around him is quiet. He doesn't know what he expected to happen or what he'd find if and when he awoke. He take a deep breathe, holding it in as he looks down at his hand. He tries to extend his claws, but nothing happens. He closes his eyes, trying to transform, but again nothing happens. 

His power is gone. And not just like when Kate had taken his power. There was no slow dwindle with a little power left like still being able to shift.

Derek had nothing. 

He was...human. He pats his jacket, searching for his cell. He doesn't remember if he brought it with him last night. In fact, he doesn't remember much. He knows he went to the nemeton. But everything else is a blur. Like a dream he'd just woken up from and there are just fuzzy fragments left that left him feeling weird and disoriented. Like he was missing something. Something important. 

But he couldn't sit out here all morning. If anything he has to talk to Scott. He needs to tell Scott-

"You're really a fucking idiot you know that?"

Derek nearly jumps out of his skin; skidding across dirt, grass and broken branches, cutting the palms of his hands along the way. His boots kick up dirt as he finally reaches a firm tree to plaster himself against. 

There, sitting in front of him now, wearing that damn red hoodie, his legs pulled up to his chest, was Stiles. 

"You...it...Stiles?" Derek squints; his eye site now compromised. 

Stiles shakes his head and brings his lips into his mouth. "What did you do, Derek?"

"Do you remember...?" Derek leans forward. He needs to touch him. He needs to make sure its real. 

Stiles reaches out, grabbing Derek's bicep roughly. "Yes I fucking _remember_. I was dead. Yeah I know, it probably sucked for everyone, but it happened. And I was pretty fucking content where I was. And then there I was having to dig myself out of my own fucking grave. didn't think of _that_ did you, Derek? No I guess not. And as I laid on the dirt, cold and exhausted I thought to myself who would be STUPID enough to bring me back to life? Not Scott, he knows better. Not my Dad because he wouldn't even know where or how to go about doing that. Not Lydia, I'm sure her screams alone when I died were too traumatizing, which leaves you, Derek Hale. Self sacrificing, never knowing when to let anything go, stupid as a box of fucking rocks, Derek Hale. And I knew, somehow I just fucking knew, where you'd be. And low and behold, you were passed out next to the nemeton. So I put on my hoodie, which I'd love to know how you got. Wait, never mind, I forgot, you have NO boundaries. So I put my hoodie on because I was freezing, and dragged you as far as I could away from that thing which you never should have fucking messed with. So thank you, Derek, for once again proving to me what a monumental jack ass you really are."

Derek blinks back actual tears, because you know real human emotions and all now. 

"Oh God, please do NOT start crying because-"

But Derek's mouth was on his before Stiles could finish. It was closed mouthed and awkward as Derek's nose bumped his and morning breath was a real thing for new humans who used to be werewolves and humans who used to be dead. But when Derek slowly pulls away after a few seconds, he's smiling. He could care less his powers were gone. Stiles was here, alive in front of him. The same talkative, hyper Stiles. 

So Derek smiles and Stiles slaps him right across the face.

  


**~**

  


Deaton's pen light flickers back and forth between Derek's green eyes. Deaton's face is like stone; no emotion or answers or even questions for that matter, written on his face.

"I'm fine, by the way. Thanks for giving me a check up. I've just been raised from the dead and all. No big deal." Stiles angry and always sarcastic voice travels from the other side of Deaton's exam room to Derek's ears. 

"You both know I'm not a medical doctor, correct?" Deaton asks, frowning and switching off the pen light. 

"Well I couldn't very well take him to the hospital." Derek barks back. 

"No, I suppose you couldn't. But we wouldn't even be having this conversation if you hadn't done something so reckless." Deaton scolds.

"Right here. Right in the room. Don't need to talk like I'm not right fucking here!" Stiles jumps down from the table he had been swinging his legs on for the past 20 minutes. "So what now? Big reunion? Run down to the station and have my dad throw his arms around me?"

Derek looks at him, his heart heavy. "Your father isn't at the station, Stiles. He's not the sheriff anymore."

Stiles face fades from annoyance to confusion quickly. "But...why?"

"He's selling the house. And he resigned. He said he's leaving Beacon Hills." Derek tells him. He watches as Stiles leans back against the table for stability.

"Is he drinking?"

Derek nods.

"A lot?"

"More than anyone should."

"Fuck." Stiles scrubs his hands over his dirt covered face. 

"What did you think, Stiles? That we would all be happy you were gone? That we'd just go on like nothing had happened?" Derek yells. 

"No! I don't know. Well, we've done it before, right? When Allison died..." Stiles shakes his head. "I need to see my dad."

"Whoa, one thing at a time here. Stiles, we need you to stay here. At least for now. We don't know..." Deaton trails off, trying to find the words to say what needs to be said but no one has said yet.

"You don't think I'm me." Stiles asks. He laughs, rolling his eyes. "Unbelievable. This asshole raises me from the dead and I'm the one being looked at like some kind of monster."

"I'm not condoning what Derek did, but he is far from a monster. He's lost every piece of power he held." Deaton eyes Derek. "He's human now."

"Well I don't care if he's fucking the Dalai Lama now. I need to see my dad." Stiles screams. 

"You're...angry." Derek says hesitantly. 

"No, you think?"

"But why?" 

Stiles gapes at him. "Um, because I was DEAD? Because there was a funeral and I was at peace! There were no werewolves or lizard things or druids or any other kind of crazy supernatural crap this town can think of! I was with my mother, I..-" He trails off, turning to they cant see his eyes begin to tear. "Just...please let me see my dad. I can help him. I'm the only one who understands the drinking."

Deaton sighs. "Get the Sheriff. And Lydia. We need Lydia." He nods at Derek.

"What about Scott?" Derek asks.

"Not yet. I need to see what Lydia can get from Stiles." 

Derek nods, moving quickly out of the room. He looks back at Stiles who is looking at everything else in the room but him. 

 

  


**~**

  


It took almost an hour for Derek to convince the sheriff he needed to come with him. He tried really hard not to tell him Stiles was alive, but with how many empty bottles were thrown around the disaster of a house, Derek knew that nothing was going to get him out of the house other than the truth. 

John didn't even ask any questions on the ride to Deaton's. It was almost as though he didn't need to. That or it didn't matter how Stiles was alive. He just was, and that was that. But as they pulled into the back lot of the vet hospital, the sheriff sneaks a look at Derek, that even in his newly human state, he understood. 

_It was you._ The look pretty much said. So all Derek could do was nod. 

The reunion wasn't what you'd think it would be. Derek expected tons of hugging and crying. But there wasn't. Stiles didn't cry. He barley even looked happy to see his dad. In fact he pretty much looked unhappy. 

And the sheriff didn't speak. But he didn't hug his child either. They stood at a stand off for a long time before Stiles finally spoke. 

"No more drinking." 

His father nods. 

And that was that. 

Derek, unable to sense peoples feelings any longer and not being able to understand true human emotion yet as well, didn't know if this was what people do when they are in shock. He wasn't always entirely wolf, but Derek's never been good with emotions or humanity. Feelings, and showing them, hasn't been his strong suit.

Derek feels happy. He brought Stiles back. But no one else seems to be participating in his joy. 

Everyone seems...he doesn't know. But he doesn't understand it. 

When Lydia gets there, she reacts the way Derek thinks everyone should. She hugs Stiles, throwing her arms around him tightly and crying into his muddied shirt. Stiles hugs back, but his arms are limp and face expressionless. She listens to his breathing, closing her eyes to get a feeling of anything from him into her senses. After a few minutes, she turns, her hand grasped tightly in Stiles. 

"It's him. I'm getting nothing from him. No death. No...evil." She smiles weakly. "It's just him."

Derek doesn't see a look of relief in anyone's eyes. He sees the same blank expressions on everyone's face that they've had since they've seen Stiles. And Stiles now, all of a sudden is mute. 

"I don't understand." Derek finally admits. "Why isn't anyone...happy?"

All eyes are on him now.

"I know you think you did something good, Derek. But...you've disrupted the balance of life and death. This holds consequences. Not only for you and Stiles but the people around him. They were healing, accepting. Moving on." Deaton tries to explain gently. 

"But they weren't." Derek protests. "We weren't."

Lydia lets go of Stiles hand and walks to Derek. She cocks her head gingerly. "No, Derek. You weren't."

Derek swallows and looks around at all the pained expressions in the room. He gets it now. Why the Sheriff, as sad and tumbling toward self destruction as he was with his son dead, doesn't look relieved. He looks almost sick to his stomach. And in more pain than he was before. And Lydia, as happy as she was moments ago to see her friend, is now looking at Derek as if she feels sorry for him. And Deaton, always the voice of reason, is nodding because Lydia is right. 

Stiles was dead. It was the course that nature took and everyone was trying to come to terms with it. Just like they did Allison. And Erica. And Boyd. They were all doing it in their own ways, but they were healing. 

And Derek just reopened a wound that will now never fully heal because just looking at Stiles cuts their wounds open time and time again. 

And Stiles, looking lost and out of place among people who love him and whom he loves, because he was taken away from a place of peace. He was forced back into this world, digging his way out of his own grave, against his will. 

All because Derek was selfish. Because he couldn't bear the thought of a world without him. He thought he was doing it for everyone else, but in reality. He was only doing it for himself. 

Derek, filled with new human emotions and without the ability to hide behind the wolf anymore, steps back away from everyone. "I...I'm sorry. I..." 

And then he's gone. He runs, at normal everyday speeds now, as fast as he can away from the chaos and pain he just created. 

Stiles died on a Tuesday. 

Stiles came back on a Friday night.

And on a Saturday morning, Derek left Beacon Hills and never looked back. 

**~**

  


**4 Years Later:**

  


Derek ties another knot in the thick nautical rope and slides it around the hook on the dock. He gives the captain a nod as he steps off onto the rickety, salt water ridden wood. 

"Thanks, Hale. Good to see you, again." Bruce pats his shoulder and gives him a small smile. 

"You too, Bruce. Boat looks good. Thinking you'll hit your quota this week?" Derek asks, shucking off his water soaked gloves and walking beside Bruce as they make their way up the dock to the port sign in post. 

"It's looking good. We have some strong storms on the horizon. Tough for the crew and the boat, but good for crabbing." They pause as Bruce eyes him. "Did you reconsider my offer to take to the open sea? I think you'd make an excellent addition to the crew." 

Derek nods, giving him a small smile. "Thanks, Bruce. But I like it here. It's quiet. I get what I need."

Bruce nods. "Suit yourself. But if you ever want to make some real money and see some excitement, let me know. After this we do another round for lobster in a few months. I'll ask again then." 

"Looking forward to it!' Derek yells after him as Bruce heads into the small shack just past the marina. 

Derek trudges up the hill, the cold rainy Alaskan air hitting already red and blistered face. He unlocks the door to his pickup, hopping into the drivers seat and starting it up. He puts the heat on full blast, warming his calloused hands in front of the small vents. 

When he could feel his fingers again, Derek makes the long trip along the mountain to his small cabin just outside the main road. It wasn't much, but it was home. 

He had come here four years ago. The day he left Deacon's he went to the loft, packed as much of his belongings as he could fit into his SUV; mostly clothes and books and a few sentimental items; and left Beacon Hills behind without one single goodbye. 

He had done enough damage. He couldn't face Scott, telling him he had done the unthinkable all for selfish reasons. And living in Beacon Hills powerless, really wasn't the most sensible thing to do. 

So he left. Found his way into Alaska where he was hired as a deck hand at the marina where all the blue crab fisherman boats come in to dock and unload for the season. When he's not doing that, he's chopping wood, or doing small errands around the town for old ladies or young widows. 

It wasn't really about the money. He made enough to get buy; he used whatever money he had left and brought with him from Beacon Hills to purchase the cabin, so it was really just for food and electricity. He had his books, and even a TV but he barely watched it. He didn't have a cell phone. He didn't own a computer. He had no internet. Not that the small town he lives in doesn't have those things, they do. He just didn't want it. 

It took a long time to get used to not having power. Its harder to pull the boats in, chop the lumber for the lumber yard without the strength he once had, but now its just like any other thing he does every day. He doesn't hear anyone's heart beat anymore; he can't feel anyone's emotions. He prefers it this way now to the way it was. It's quiet, as he told Bruce. 

He had spoken to Scott once. About 2 years ago. He had read in some newspapers at the local library of some disturbances in northern California with animal attacks. Derek's hands shook as he dialed Scott's number from the pay phone outside the library. 

Scott confirmed another pack had moved in but Scott and and the rest of them had taken care of it. There had been some cuts and bruises but all in all everyone came out unscathed. He never asked about Stiles. And Scott never brought him up. Derek was glad. Neither of them needed a verbal reminder of what had been done and why Derek had left. 

Scott told him to take care and not be a stranger. But that's all Derek felt like when he hung up with him. A stranger. 

Derek opens his front door, dropping his keys onto the small table he uses to eat and read at. He never locks his door; he doesn't need to. He has nothing worth stealing and he's so far into the woods no one but hikers and lost tourists make it this far. He usually helps them back to where they came from and reminds them the main road is to the left of the large maple. Not right. 

Derek kicks off his boots, yawns a big yawn and scratches at his stomach as he enters the living room. The sun is practically gone and he fishes around under neath his lamp shade on the end table for the switch. It clicks twice, shining a small yellow light into the cabin. He turns and instantly screams like a little girl. 

He's human now. He has no werewolf senses. He still considers himself pretty tough; he remembers how to fight and he can take care of himself. But his instincts are not what they used to be. 

And the reason for that, the reason for his humanity, is sitting in his recliner, hands folded across his lap, pushing himself into small rocking motions with his sneakered feet. 

"You really should lock your door there, Derek. Anyone could just walk right in." Stiles tells him smiling. 

  


**~**

  


He gets Stiles a drink, and Stiles wanders around for a while, looking at the bookshelf for a while, taking mental notes of all the books he owns. He runs his fingers along surfaces, and if Derek still had his wolf, he would think Stiles was marking himself all over Derek's house. Finally Stiles turns his way.

"You were pretty easy to find. You're in the white pages. Oh and Mrs. Dawson at the general store told me where you live. This really is quite quaint what you have out here, Derek." Stiles smirks and cocks an eye brow. "How's human life treating you? Was it all worth it?"

Derek stands perfectly still, taking in the sight in front of him. Stiles alive. Healthy. He had grown into himself. He was a few inches taller now, his hair grown out even more than when Derek had left. And he had the faintest beginnings of a five o'clock shadow. 

"Yes. You're alive. That was all that mattered."

Stiles laughs, full on bursts out laughing and shakes his head. He looks down at the floor, trying to catch his breathe after the onslaught of laughter. "Mmmm. Oh, I'm alive alright." When Stiles eyes finally catch Derek's it causes him to fall back against his coffee table, nearly eating it on the hardwood floor beneath him. Derek rights himself, holding onto the edge of the table for support. 

Stiles eyes, which are normally honey brown, are glowing a vibrant and disturbing shade of red. 

"What...Stiles...how...?" Derek cant get the words out. 

Stiles smirks. "I'm the Alpha now."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When tragedy strikes, Derek's gives up everything to fix it. But not everyone is as happy as he is with the end result. So he runs, never looking back. But Derek must learn, he never has been able to run from his past.
> 
> _His chest is heaving; his lungs trying desperately to find air again. His body is pouring out sweat, the angry wound shoving out blood and his chest red and glistening in the bathroom mirror. When Stiles naked form appears behind his reflection his whole body stiffens._
> 
> _“How do you feel?” The Alpha asks gently._

  
****

****

Derek lifts his head, droplets of water streaming down over his face. He swallows, his reflection staring back at him. His lips swollen and parted, are huffing out small puffs of air. His eyes, still dilated, are foreign to him. His shoulder is on fire; the ache and burn traveling through his entire body. 

His chest is heaving; his lungs trying desperately to find air again. His body is pouring out sweat, the angry wound shoving out blood and his chest red and glistening in the bathroom mirror. When Stiles naked form appears behind his reflection his whole body stiffens.

“How do you feel?” The Alpha asks gently.

Derek gives himself one more glance, his eyes flashing a shade of amber he hasn’t seen in four years. 

“Powerful.”

Stiles smiles. “Good.”  
  
**~**  
 _Derek feels Stiles body heavy on his, their lips both demanding dominance as they kiss. He isn’t sure how they got in this position. One moment Stiles' eyes are flashing red, giving out no answers to questions Derek is still asking as they roll around on top of broken wood, battling for dominance; and the next they are literally attacking each other; hair pulling, clothes shredding and cocks pressed together through denim._

_Maybe this was a long time coming. Derek knows, years ago back in Beacon Hills when his wolf was still deep inside him, sometimes just looking at Stiles after a dangerous battle made his dick swell. Sometimes the need to protect Stiles was so raw and deep that the very hint of blood the teenager spilled would send Derek into a spiral. But he never acted. Neither of them ever made a move._

_The feeling was there. And it stayed with Derek long after Stiles was gone and his wolf was gone too._

_But now, with everything turned in opposite directions, literally, Stiles’ need for Derek is so intense even as human as Derek is, he could still feel it. Stiles broke Derek’s coffee table when he launched himself at him, shoving him down hard on top of it. The wood cracked right in the middle, crashing them both to the floor; splinters shoving into Derek’s skin through his thin t-shirt._

_“I built that table.” Derek mumbles as Stiles nuzzles his neck._

_“It was beautiful. Really. You should be proud.” Stiles dismisses as his tongue invades Derek’s mouth._

_Derek shakes his head and Stiles ruts against him like a dog in heat. “Tell me you want this.” Stiles pleads._

_Derek pulls back, his eyes searching Stiles face. “Why are you doing this? Now? How long have…”_

_“Been a wolf? Is it important?” Stiles asks out of breath._

_“Not as important as how long you’ve wanted to hump my leg.” Derek answers, cocking an eyebrow. Stiles smiles._

_“A pretty fucking long time.”_

_“Even when I…?” Derek swallows, unable to make eye contact now._

_“Brought me back from the dead and then took off?” Stiles rubs his nose against Derek’s. “Yeah. Even then. And long after.”_

_“I missed you.” Derek admits as a whisper._

_“I know.” Stiles sits up a little, knees crunching on broken wood. “Are you mad I’m here?”_

_Derek cocks his head, running his hands up Stiles sides under his shirt. His skin is so warm. “No. I’m just…surprised. But glad.” He pauses. “There’s a lot to talk about.”_

_Stiles nods, his hands resting on Derek’s chest. “I know. But not yet. There’s time for that.”_

_“How long are you staying?”_

_Stiles gives him a small smile. “As long as you want.”_

_“You’re not going back to Beacon Hills?” Derek pushes up on his elbows. Stiles face falls._

_“No. That probably wouldn’t be the best idea.”_

_“Why? What happened?” Derek sits up further, pulling Stiles even closer to his chest and he settles on his lap like he had always belonged there._

_Stiles gently touches Derek’s cheek. “I’ll tell you everything. I promise. But first…” Stiles ghosts his lips over Derek’s. “Take me to bed.”_  
**~**  


When Derek finally emerges from the bathroom, Stiles in the kitchen, stirring a pot. Derek peaks over his shoulder to find soup simmering. 

“There's nothing to eat in this place.” Stiles grumpily huffs out. He turns to open the fridge, his naked ass high in the air as he bends over to view its contents. 

Derek smirks. 

“We could go to the grocery store. There's a 24 hour market about 20 miles from here.”

Stiles turns, eyes flipping red for a moment. “20 miles? Derek, seriously? Don’t you miss civilization?”

Derek shrugs. “Not really.” 

“Soup is fine for now.” Stiles stirs the pot and Derek feels heat radiate through his body. 

“We need to talk. Especially…”

“I know.” Stiles cuts him off. He places the spoon gently on the counter and takes a deep breath. “Okay. Ask me anything.”

“How’d you turn?” 

Stiles laughs, looking up at the ceiling and white knuckling the counter. “Peter.”

Derek feels the newly bitten anger rise inside him. 

“Don’t worry. He’s dead.” He gives Derek a sympathetic look. “Sorry.”

“Did you…?”

“No. It was Scott.” He raises an eyebrow at him. 

Then Derek asks the question he isn’t sure he wants the answer to, but needs it. 

“How are you Alpha?”

Stiles swallows hard. “Scott’s dead.”

Derek feels as if his lungs have been ripped from his chest. Then it all becomes clear. 

“When he killed Peter…”

“It cured him.”

Derek leans against the kitchen counter for support. “And you…”

“Became Alpha.”

Derek trembles. “Then how…” He can see the tears form in Stiles eyes. 

“Asthma attack.” Stiles sighs and continues. “You gave me your power. When you brought me back to life, my spark grew larger. And when Peter bit me, I was a werewolf but I felt something bigger inside me. The moment the pain hit it was like I was being drawn to you. You were running through my blood. And then when Scott was cured, I felt it. I felt the power. And my need to be near you grew too. And now with Scott gone, it just made even more sense to come be here with you.”

"Are you...okay?" Derek asks, letting go of the counter and reaching for his Alpha. Stiles shrugs. 

"I guess. I mean, losing Scott was awful. I've never felt more alone and guilty. But it was his choice to kill Peter. He knew what would happen. I offered. I told him I was strong enough to do it, but you know Scott. Self sacrificer. But for the few weeks after he was human again, he seemed happy. He missed the power, but I feel like he felt he had his life back. He was helping me with my shifts. Taught me control. No matter whether I was Alpha now or not, he was always my Alpha." He pauses. "Our Alpha."

Derek nods. 

"But, when he was gone, I didn't know how to go on. Just looking at Melissa made me sick. My Dad comforts her, you know they're engaged now, right? Which just makes it so much worse. So one night, I just left. I had to. I had to come here. I needed to see you. I can't explain why."

"Did you plan this. To..." Derek motions toward the bite now pretty much fully healed on his shoulder. 

"No." Stiles says quickly. "No. This wasn't about forming a pack or giving you back what you lost. This was about us. Biting you was just...passion. Need. Instinct."

"I let you."

"Why did you?" Stiles asks, curling his fingers inside Derek's. 

"Cause I've always been yours, Stiles. Werewolf. Human. Dead or alive. It doesn't matter. I guess it was instinct on my part too."

  
**~**  
 _Stiles pushes Derek hard down onto his full size mattress. He straddles his hips like he did on the living room floor. His eyes flash red; the need and wolf inside him coming to the surface._

_"I dream about you every night. Feeling my body on yours. Your skin hot and wet. Your cock hard for me." Stiles filthy words cascade down on top of Derek like the most beautiful music to ever pass through his ears._

_"Have you?" Derek almost doesn't want to ask._

_"Malia. After I turned. Full moon." He shrugs. "I didn't feel anything." He leans down, ghosting his lips against Derek's full beard. "It's always been you. Even before I...died. I loved you then. I love you now."_

_"I'm human. I have nothing to give you." Derek reminds him, his lips reaching for the skin against Stiles face._

_"It was never about that. It was about this." Stiles fans his fingers across Derek's bare chest. "You're heart. The way you took care of me, in ways Scott never could. You brought me back from the dead, knowing what you'd be giving up."_

_"You slapped me across the face if I remember correctly." Derek presses his nose into Stiles neck. He smells like the woods and it makes Derek harder._

_"You know me, drama queen." Stiles kisses him, deep and forceful. They both moan, hands pressing and needy._

_"You need a pack." Derek mumbles between kisses._

_"You offering?" Stiles huffs out a laugh as his tongue invades Derek's mouth._

_Derek pulls back, green meeting golden brown. "Yes."_

_Stiles eyes widen. "I didn't come here..."_

_"I know. I know you didn't. But..."_

_Stiles sits up. "You want your power back? Do you miss...?"_

_"Sometimes. But it has nothing to do with any of that. I want to be yours. You were always my pack. Now let me be yours." Derek swallows and bares his neck to the Alpha. A low growl escapes Stiles chest and he's suddenly THERE at Derek's neck, scenting and licking like a caged animal finally free._

_"I want you. Not just as my pack. I want you forever. Around me. Inside you. Inside me. Do you want that Derek? Do you want to be mine?"_

_"I've always been yours. Your mate. That's why I gave up everything to bring you back. I couldn't live in a world without you in it." Derek moans, lifting his hips so their clothed dicks rubbed together. Stiles growls again, his teeth scraping over the delicate skin on Derek's neck and shoulder._

_"I want to be inside you when I do it. When I come, filling you up, marking you, I'm gonna tie you to me. Then I'll rip you open in every fucking aspect."_

_"Do it." Derek begs. "Fuck me. Please."_

_With one sharp claw of a shifted hand, Derek's boxers are in shreds, his uncut cock springing free, wet and red with want._

_"Fuck, I knew you'd be uncut." Stiles wraps his mouth around him, taking him down to the base. Derek throws his head back, white and yellow colors forming behind his shut eyes._

_"Stiles, please." He grabs at Stiles long hair, but Stiles keeps sucking; hollowing his cheeks and licking up his underside. For someone who claims to never have been with a guy he sure knows how to use his mouth._

_With a pop, Derek's cock is now wet and cold in the bedroom air. Stiles mouth is back on his, and Derek can taste the bitterness of his own precum._

_"Turn over. On your hands and knees. I'm gonna spread that hole wide open."_

_Derek whimpers and does exactly what the Alpha tells him._

  
**~**  
The night is quiet. The breeze coming in off the trees. The soft almost not there sounds of crickets and night creatures out in the distance. Derek wraps his arms around Stiles firmer, the blanket that is keeping them even more bound, if that's even possible now, warm and soft around them.

"Only you would have a porch with a swing on it." Stiles snorts. Derek bites his ear and Stiles giggles, reminding Derek of years past. 

"You're still you. Yeah, the power is there. The wolf inside you. But you're still that flaily mouthy kid I met all those years ago."

"I'm 21 now, I'll have you know. I can drink legally now. Not that it does a fucking thing. Its so sad." Stiles lets his head fall back against Derek's shoulder. He presses his lips to his neck. 

"There are other ways to stimulate the senses, so to speak." Derek mumbles against his skin. "I'll show you."

"Are we gonna stay here?" Stiles whispers. 

"Do you want to?" 

Stiles shrugs. "I don't know. Beacon Hills is home, but there's not much left there."

"Your Dad is there. And Melissa." Derek pauses. "Where's Lydia?"

"LA. She's a model now. All those brains and beauty won out." Stiles snorts. 

"She's a big girl. And she's not stupid. She'll make good choices." Derek assures him. 

"Chris left a long time ago. I think he went back to France to be with the rest of his family. And Isaac." Stiles turns a little in Derek's arms. "I think they are fucking."

Derek smirks. "Good for them then."

"Yeah." Stiles looks back at the dark woods surrounding them. "Do you miss it?"

"Beacon Hills? Sometimes. It was home for a long time. For a lot of different reasons. But now I'm not sure."

Stiles sighs. "Could we live normal lives?"

"There we could. I could open a business. You could be the new deputy." Derek smiles against Stiles head. 

"Uh huh." 

"You're Dad would love it."

"What kind of business? Werewolves R Us?" Stiles frowns. 

"I don't know. Carpentry. Construction. Dog kennel."

Stiles laughs and hugs Derek's arms tighter around him. "Why don't we stay here until we know you can handle your shift again? Then we'll go back. We'll start over. New pack. New rules. New way of life in Beacon Hills."

Derek closes his eyes, breathing in his Alpha's scent. "That sounds utterly perfect."

  
**~**  
 _Derek is open and wet around Stiles fingers. He can feel Stiles breathing heavy ; his teeth scraping across Derek's skin. His feral noises make Derek drip onto the sheets underneath him. If he could still knot, he'd be doing it now for Stiles._

_"Do it." Derek moans._

_"What? Slam my cock into you?" Stiles whispers against his lower back. He twists his wrist and hits the spot inside Derek that only himself has found on lonely cold nights. But Stiles fingers feel better. They hit the spot just right causing Derek to stiffen and nearly explode._

_"Nuh uh uh. Don't come until I bite you. It'll make your orgasm better." Stiles warns._

_"H-How would you know?" Derek whimpers._

_"Cause I already know your body. I can feel it. You're ready for me. You've always been ready for me." Suddenly Stiles fingers are gone and Derek feels more vulnerable than he ever has._

_"Shhh. I'm here. I'm always going to be here now. I promise." The first push of Stiles blunt cock against his hole makes Derek suck his breath in. "Breathe, Derek."_

_Derek does. He lets out a long sigh and Stiles bottoms out in one fluid motion. They both groan loudly in unison, the feeling different on both ends, but they still feel the same connection. The same heat and wanton between them._

_"Stiles..." Derek releases from his lips, burying his face in his fisted hands._

_"Yeah, Der. I'm here. God, you're so hot. Fuck. It's better than I ever thought it would be. We fit together. I knew we always would. I know you're beautiful dick is gonna fit so nice inside me too. Christ."_

_Derek squeezes his muscles around Stiles and it forces a loud animalistic noise from his lover._

_"Fuck, yes. Do that again." Stiles begs as he picks up his pace, slowly pulling out of Derek's ass and slamming back in, balls deep._

_They both start an anthem of 'yeahs', and taking the lords name in vain, as Stiles plows into him; his beta form nails stabbing into Derek's hips. He knows there is blood droplets forming at the wounds, but he doesn't care. He's so close to cumming and he knows Stiles is too._

_"Fill me up, Stiles. Please. Give it to me." Derek pushes back against each thrust Stiles gives him._

_"Derek...fuck yes." He snarls. Derek can feel Stiles mouth at his shoulder. He cranes his neck, showing his submission to the Alpha. "You're mine, Derek. Fucking mine."_

_Derek feels Stiles cock grow harder inside him and with one last push he is howling, causing the wood panels in the cabin to shake. Derek feels his own cock pulse and release ribbons and ribbons of white heat onto the sheets._

_And then he pain takes over. As Stiles dumps his own orgasm deep inside Derek, his teeth come down and tear at the flesh of Derek's shoulder. Derek screams, throwing his head back, but Stiles is right there, grabbing at his hair and holding him in place. Derek is flailing, or trying to from the pain, but Stiles' Alpha strength keeps him still._

_When Stiles releases his skin, he quickly laps at it, cleaning it and licking up the blood spurting from it. Derek knows it will continue to bleed no matter how much Stiles does it, but it isn't about stopping it. Its about the instinct. To heal your mate. To protect them. To nurture them._

_Derek collapses against the bed, in his own cum, and Stiles lays gently on top of him, still tucked deep inside his ass._

_"Shhh. Rest." Stiles whispers, running his fingers through Derek's sweaty hair._

  
**~**  
 **Two Years Later:**  
  
  
Derek hears the siren before he sees the lights in his rear view mirror. He groans, slowly pulling the large truck he's driving, over to the side of the road. He waits for what seems like forever until he sees the uniform outside his drivers side window.

"License and registration, please." 

Derek rolls his eyes. 

"Sir, are you disobeying the law? Step out of the vehicle." Sunglasses push down the nose of the figure in front of him and Derek smiles, opening the truck door and hopping out. 

"Sir, do you realize its against the laws of Beacon Hills to be this fucking hot?" Stiles smirks, tapping his pen against his ticket pad. 

"No, officer. I had no idea that dirty jeans and dusty t-shirts were such a turn on in this town." Derek leans forward, letting his Alpha get another whiff of his salty scent. 

"Don't shower when you get home. I'm off in an hour. I'm going to lick every inch of your sweaty body." Stiles growls, hiding his red flashing eyes behind his sunglasses. 

"Yes, Deputy Stilinski." Derek nods. He looks both ways on the silent back road Stiles has pulled him over on and leans forward quickly to steal a kiss from his boyfriend. Lover. Mate. Alpha. However you look at it. 

Stiles kisses back, a small moan escaping his throat. "Fuck I love you." He whispers. 

Derek's eyes flash amber and he gives him another quick kiss before hopping back in his construction truck. "Ditto."


End file.
